


Sirens

by AngelWithAStory



Category: Original Work
Genre: Boarding School, Conflict, Family Secrets, Fantasy, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Magic, Male-Female Friendship, Mythology - Freeform, POV Female Character, POV First Person, mythology in general
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAStory/pseuds/AngelWithAStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people reach Year 9 and all they have to worry about is the social chain of command and when their next homework is due in. Unfortunately, I have to worry about my step sister attacking people because of her Siren nature, my best friend, Joanne, finding out about something I never wanted her to know, protecting a boy who I hadn't talked to before from my psychotic step sister, praying he will keep my secret, and on top of that; my English project is due soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this is my 100th work on here and I thought I should celebrate by sharing my original story with you :)  
> I've actually been writing this in a series for the last few years and much before I was writing fanfiction - so this is a pretty big thing for me

You know the stories of the beautiful women that lured shipwrecked sailors to their doom? The Sirens from mythology? They’re _real_! At school the pretty, popular but not-that-bright girls aren’t the easiest people to deal with; pretty much anyone could tell you that. But I promise you, the one at my school was worse.

They can make your life harder than it needs to be, but most people tend to put it down to pure spite. When you know as much as I do, you realize, that isn’t always the case. Sometimes it’s a much bigger problem; and sometimes, it’s revolutionary.

This is my story; the tale of me Vs a Siren.

******

I was 13 when everything started to unravel. The most popular girl at school was also my step sister. I loathed her, hated her guts, but everyone else loved her and worshiped the ground she walked on. Only I knew the truth. You see, every night at exactly 4 minutes past midnight a Siren goes into a kind of frenzy and grows stronger than before, but only for the remainder of the hour (think of the Witching Hour from the BFG and you’re nearly there). I woke up one night at just past midnight and, for some reason, sleepily gazed out of my bedroom window. Unsurprisingly, the street outside was quiet and the only thing that changed was the flickering streetlamp just further down. I would have usually just pulled the duvet up and gone back to sleep, but a small movement caught my eye. As quietly as I could so I didn’t wake my sister, I slid off the bottom bunk and stepped over to the window, peering between the curtains.

A boy, about my age, was on the road outside my house. Next to him, was _her_. My (evil) step sister. That was the night I realized the truth about her.

 

Before I go any further, there is something you need to know. I have the blood of a witch running through my veins. As bizarre as it sounds, I promise you that I’m telling the truth.

I even go so far as to occasionally practice spells and charms during the witching hour. Not often, since there’s always the risk of waking someone up, but often enough.

I’m the Century Witch.  

After the Century Witch dies, there is a 100 year gap before another is born (hence the name ‘ _Century_ ’ Witch. After me, and another hundred years, the next Witch will be given the secrets and then the powers are hers’.

If you don’t believe me and you think this is all a bundle of lies, stop reading. Just stop reading now; other you’ll _never_ believe anything else that happens in my story.

 

Back to the story. When I saw her hovering over something, I grabbed second-hand Mythical creature fact file and looked up the description. My finger trailed down the page, checking and double-checking the descriptions matched. I couldn’t deny it: my step sister was a Siren.

Now, the stories are always vague about the details and descriptions but most Sirens share similar qualities: lanky chestnut brown hair, green striking eyes, medium height, skinny features and _always_ a ruby ring. If you see a girl like this, don’t get involved. They aren’t particularly dangerous but they will _ruin_ your _life_. Try and warn the boys as they are a Siren’s main prey (not that the boys will believe you if the Siren’s been there long enough, anyway, but it’s worth a shot).

The streetlamp flickered again and I turned back to the scene.

My step sister was just standing over the boy. The longer I looked the more ill I felt but I couldn’t tear myself away. I made my mind up then to try some form of prevention charm. There was a Siren repellent but it only worked for all the boys in a 10 meter radius so If chose that, I’d have do it at my boarding school and possibly in broad day light. The only other options were place a charm on my step sister, or convince every male in my school to wear a special pendent. Somehow I knew the last one wasn’t going to work, but there was no reason why the other two couldn’t work.

My spell book was dusty and old and creaked slightly when you opened it. It was bound in a silver silk ribbon and a dusky purple cover that held the inscription:

 

“ _Ego cedo animae sanguinem magicae.”_

(Which translates as “ _I_ _yield_ _to the blood_ _magic_.”)

I was the only one that could see the writing (otherwise anyone would be able to open the book). I searched until I found it: **_a Sirens’ enemy_** _._ I gawped at the incredibly complicated spell and knew I had to start right now if I wanted to succeed. The first ingredient was ‘THE HAIR OF A SIREN’.

With my strength wavering more than I’d ever admit, I pulled on my old, grubby hoodie, and headed out. The rest of my clothes were packed ready for when I had to leave for boarding school in two days time. Before I left my room, I grabbed a small tie-up pouch from the bookshelf and tied it around my wrist.

Racing downstairs, I opened the front door, creeping as quietly as I could. My dad had the best hearing of anyone I’ve ever known and he would have heard me had I been walking normally, even if he was sleeping heavily.

Val stood there, right in the middle of the street, with a look on her face that made me sick. Like when a cat kills a bird or mouse and has that smug look on their face.

“Well, what are you doing up this late, step-sis?” She asked, with a slight note of panic in her voice that she was keen to disguise.

“I could ask you the same thing, _step-sis_ ” I retorted, emphasising the two last words because I despised when she called me that.

“Well... I, err... couldn’t sleep and I, um... thought I left something here.” She muttered.

“In the middle of the road? At night?” I raised an eyebrow at her questionable excuse but ultimately just shrugged. “Well, when you find it, text me. Ok, Siren. Opps, I mean step-sis.” I watched her face turn from smug to panic and turned to kneel by the boy unconscious on the road “You do know you’re lucky everyone else is asleep.” I said, still kneeling over the boy. I wanted to keep my voice level but the pleasure I was feeling was so intense, I couldn’t stop the smile even if I wanted to.

“Like I don’t know that already.” Val muttered sarcastically. “The question is why were _you_ up this late and how do you know I’m a Siren?” She interrogated. Without answering I took the bag from around my wrist and took out an emerald bottle, opened the lid and poured a single drop on the boy’s forehead.  A few brown hairs had fallen onto the front of his shirt. I gently placed my hand over them, pretending to mutter words under my breath so Val would think I was just speeding up the process of sending the poor bugger back to his house. My fingers curled around the hairs, clutching them tightly in my fist. After a few more seconds, he rapidly began to dematerialize and faded from sight, leaving just me and _her_. I sighed internally and stood up.

_‘Another relationship over. What was the boyfriend total now? 17 this summer holidays alone? What a man-eater_.’ I thought to myself, turning to face her. ‘ _I guess I know_ why _now.’_

“Well, I think you have some explaining to do.” I gave her a look of what I hoped was curiosity and disappointment. We were standing a foot away from each other, face to face. Her hands clenched up into fists and I folded my arms over my chest, staring her down. Minutes passed in tense silence, neither of us wanting to submit to the other’s gaze. I shifted my shoulders back, squaring them and lifting my chin up slightly. Val’s glare became strained and I knew I was

“Ok, I’m a Siren! There are you happy?” Val demanded, forgetting it was the middle of the night and there were houses all around us.

“Yes.” I said simply. “See you in the morning, Valentine. Don’t wake the household up when you creep back in.” I turned my back on her, clutching the hairs in my hand as tightly as humanly possible. I gripped the ingredient as I walked back to my room, tip toeing back up the stairs. I found a small, circular tube and gently slid them in, just until I had a chance to pack it in my bag.       

I knew I probably just made a big mistake but I was ready. There was no way I would let my Siren step sister patronize me. Thinking that to myself, I curled up on my bed, and allowed myself to fall into the deep abyss known as sleep.

Morning arose and I couldn’t help puzzling over last night. I couldn’t dismiss it as a dream, but I wasn’t entirely sure that it actually happened either.

Why did Val tell me immediately? Why didn’t she simply refuse to say? My thoughts were lost with another day of frantic packing at my dad’s.


	2. Next Chapter

I awoke to Val bashing my door down. I sleepily opened my eyes to see the dawn just breaking over the hazy horizon. My room was flooded with shades of terracotta, mauve, peach, scarlet and amber. I didn’t need to turn the baby blue lamp on. Even though it was still a bit dark, I could see perfectly. Somewhere in the back of my head, I recited the line ‘ _red sky in the morning, Shepherd’s warning_ ’. Above me, Elizabeth was beginning to stir and I knew I had to get up.

“Go away Val!” I shouted, as loudly as I dared. The constant thumping on my door stopped abruptly.

“Get up then!” Val shouted, poking her head around the door. I threw a pillow at her head and she quickly retracted to her room adjacent to mine.

“Stop shouting the both of you.” Dad grumbled passing my, now open, door. I pulled the covers up over my head and tried to go back to sleep, but by now I was fully awake, so all hope of sleep had vanished. I tiredly pulled on a baggy t-shirt that belonged to my brother and forced a pair of boyfriend jeans over my legs. I sat on my bed and watched the sun make its first appearance.            Since it was the middle of September, I knew it must be relatively early. My grubby silver and white (well, off-white) trainers that I’d owned since last year lay beside my bed. I quickly pulled them on, tucking the laces into the sides so I didn’t step on them.

I glanced up at the still-sleeping Elizabeth, who hated travel day just as much as I did. I placed a foot on the lowest rung of the ladder to the top bunk. Hoisting myself up, I gently shook her awake and ordered her to get dressed and go downstairs to get breakfast. My mind was still foggy with sleep, leading me to trip over the suitcases on the way to the kitchen. Mike (who was going back to university to do his second year there) was already helping himself to a large bowl of cereal. I ignored his complaints of why I was wearing his shirt, and picked at a double chocolate muffin while the kettle boiled.

“Why is every time we leave, you always wear one of my shirts?” Mike asked irritably, while sloshing milk down his front.

“You _could_ think of it as a compliment, or you could shut your mouth and grow up.” I retorted, pouring water into a mug with a tea bag and sweeteners in.

“You _could_ stop being such a sarcastic little brat.” Mike said, with a smile. We never really got along perfectly, but we are quite close. Closer than I was with Elizabeth, ironically.

“So, how was your night on the sofa?” I asked.

“Oh, hit me where it hurt.” Mike feigned dying, holding his hands over him heart.

“Shut up, you idiot.” I say, laughing at his stupidity. “Do you want a tea?” I poured milk into my mug and went to put the bottle back in the fridge.

“Nah, it’s an old lady drink.” He wrinkled his nose like a cat. I laughed again, because Dad walked in to hear the comment, with a tea in his hand.

“What was that?” He asked in his usual growling manner. Mike jumped, sloshing even more milk over his front. Scowling at my continuous laughter, Mike grabbed a sponge from the sink and scrubbed his shirt vigorously.

“’Morning.” Elizabeth said sleepily, in her friendly, open voice that always calmed me when I was nervous. She sauntered through the door and let Dad kiss the top of her head. She got a muffin as well but started to make a hot chocolate.

Despite us being twins, the only thing we had in common was we were the exact same height: 5 foot 7. We grew really fast, at the exact same pace as well. We’re the tallest people in our class, always. Facially, we don’t look alike in the slightest. The problems with being fraternal twins; everyone automatically assumes you will look the same because you say ‘twin’. I’m sick of it.

Firstly, Elizabeth has blonde hair, and I had red-purple hair (well, that wasn’t my parents fault, so I can’t really use that but it’s _true_ ). Secondly, Elizabeth is a girlie girl and adores anything pink and fluffy. I do love animals, but really, I’m not like her in the slightest. I can’t _stand_ pink and I’ve never read a fashion magazine in my life. Also, I’d much prefer just one or two really close friends that I can trust with my life, while Elizabeth was welcomed into the ‘popular’ crowd with open arms. Somehow, she always knows what’s going to happen before anyone else.

I can’t blame Elizabeth for being sweet and kind to everyone she meets, but it’s a bit annoying how every teacher adores her and most of them can’t stand me. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if Lizzie went on to be a superstar, or anything else for that matter, since she’s brilliant at everything. Obviously.

“Why are you wearing Mike’s top?” Liz asked, taking her mug out of the microwave. I gave her a ‘ _do I have to answer to you?_ ’ face which made her smile her dazzling smile that can win over absolutely anyone. Her eyes lit up with joy and I felt a smile creep up on me. (As twins, we do share another feature; we have the exact eyes, very dark blue with almost wave-like patterns in them.)

“See, I told you!” Mike exclaimed, spraying me with water from the sponge.

“You said nothing! And I’m wearing Mike’s top because I bloody feel like.” I said defensively, wiping droplets of water from my cheeks. Dad frowned at me.

“Watch your language.” He warned me, his face serious.

“You can talk.” Mike muttered, but Dad heard and he shrunk out of the door.

“You should be more polite. Like Elizabeth.” Dad said, still serious, making Liz blush furiously. I never liked it how people compare us; it made me feel like they wished there was only _one_ of us.

“Why should I be polite when there are people out there who won’t look twice at me because I’m a girl?” I demanded, finishing my muffin and putting the wrapper in the recycling bag. Dad frowned at me again. I flashed him a cheeky smile and quickly began sipping my tea.

“You need to grow out of this tom-boy, aggressive attitude. You need to start learning to use manners, especially when you’re growing up into a young woman.” He said as I drained my tea in one go. Val walked in and started preparing to make a bowl of porridge.

“Giving you a lecture?” She asked, not making eye contact. That suited me, just fine.

“Yep, about being more of a _lady_.” I said the last word in a very posh accent, which made Dad laugh. Elizabeth propped herself up on top of the counter, but Dad didn’t say anything. I tried copying but he promptly told me to get down. Elizabeth was always his favourite.

I’m not surprised. Liz actually let’s him act like a dad, whereas I barely let him make me a drink. I’ve never let him be my dad, even if he is. I took a seat opposite him at the kitchen table that we hardly ever eat on. It’s still our breakfast table but every other meal we have, we eat at the dining table in the next room.

“All I’m saying is that, boys aren’t interested in a girl that’s one of them.” Dad said. It was my turn to frown.

“But I’m not interested in the boys in our school; they’re all idiots and I don’t have time for them. And who cares? I’m not one of the boys, anyway.” I hated it when Dad tried to make me change my behaviour.  My answer made Dad laugh.

“I bet they see you as a friend rather than someone to fancy.” Dad had a way of making me squirm in my seat.

“That’s up to them. I don’t care if they love me or if they’re just a friend. But if you want me to go around school looking more like girl, I have an idea that could make us both happy.” I say, leaning against the back of the chair. My gaze turned to Elizabeth, who promptly caught on.

“You mean dress like that girl from the year above? The one that wears shorts that barely clear her underwear and tops that cling to her skin?” Elizabeth inquired. The expression on dad’s face was so funny we both started laughing.

“That isn’t what I had in mind exactly.” Dad spluttered, making us laugh harder. Val looked at us with pity.

“Don’t worry; I’ll just be nicer to everyone. How about that?” I compromised, a sarcastic undertone in my voice. Dad smiled, relieved that I’m not planning on dressing like that.

“Okay. I just think that it isn’t really girly when you go round with your hair dyed an obscure colour, jeans ripped at the knees and t-shirts with old bands written across them.” He said, as if that was the final word on the subject.

“What’s wrong with the t-shirts?” I asked defensively, getting up out of my chair and going into the hall.

“Nothing, I just doubt the teachers at your school will like you coming in to lessons looking like a proper rebel.” He answered, waving his tea mug in my direction.

“Mum doesn’t mind me dressing like this.” I countered, shutting him up. I smiled at my small victory when Mike called from the front room that the taxi was here. I squirmed as dad hugged me goodbye. I quickly hugged Mike and ran upstairs to get my suitcase. Val, Liz and I piled in the taxi and off we were off to the airport.

“I want it down on the record that I think it’s stupid that we have to get on a plane when a train journey would be much less hassle.” I spoke up, pulling my phone out of my pocket and switching it to plane mode.

“For once, I agree with her.” Val admitted, tilting her head in my direction.

“Well,” Elizabeth began, pausing to formulate her argument properly. “Going down to London by plane is much quicker than the train or driving.” She justified, holding her hand luggage on her lap.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to go by train the whole way?” I argued, watching the airport slowly come into view out of the taxi window. Elizabeth didn’t respond, instead choosing to answer a text message she just received. I huffed in annoyance and double checked my bag.

“I’m sure if you talked to Dad then maybe the routine could change.” Elizabeth finally suggested as we were pulling our suitcases out of the taxi boot.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” I replied shortly, slamming the boot shut so hard the taxi driver scowled at me from his seat. Val quickly paid him and made her way over.

Luckily, customs was quick and we were on the plane to London before I knew it. Val insisted that she should sit between Elizabeth and me. It was the same every year; I’d bring my notebook, iPod, a few books and sit quietly, keeping myself to myself. Val would play loud games, listen to rubbish music very loudly and complain at such a volume that the stewardess had to ask her to quiet down while Elizabeth would be like me and keep herself to herself and her nose well and truly in a book, occasionally hissing at Val to quieten down.

After the plane touched down, it was a mad dash to Kings Cross station and onto the train that would take us to our school in Wales. Well, not just outside our school; the train stopped in a busy town not far from the school. This was the routine; it was the same, beginning and end of the school year, as well as half-term holidays. And it was bloody tiring.

Apart from that, school was great. My best friend, Joanne and I go to the local village at the weekend and we would walk the teacher’s dogs by the reservoir and in the summer, sneak out on to the roof, just to see the fireworks they set off a village over.

Val, of course, always wanted to be the popular one in the spotlight and wanted everyone on her side. Thank goodness I had Joanne! She always saw right through her act and sided with me. I couldn’t imagine not having Joanne as my best friend; she’s so full of life and she’s ready for anything life throws at her. Her bright, slightly shy personality has an uncanny way of shining through her skin and becoming a physical feature of her being no matter who she’s talking to.

We arrived close to 2 in the afternoon and were settled in by dinner time. While I was busy unpacking my stuff, Joanne and I caught up with what happened over the summer – despite the fact that we Skyped nearly every week.

She and her foster family went to America for a fortnight to see their relatives, while my family went to Africa and went on a safari when we weren’t lounging around the hotel pool to try and stay cool. Dad didn’t stop complaining for an hour after the safari and Mike made fun of him mercilessly (right up until he got major sunburn on his torso and whimpered when we had to put the after-sun on them).

Even though Val is my step sister, she didn’t go to Africa with my dad, Mike and me; she went to Portugal for 5 days with her own mother and somehow everyone thought that the most _interesting_ thing in the _entire_ world.

(These people have very poor imaginations.)

Val is always _very_ jealous because Joanne and I are best friends. I almost pity her in a way: she never had anyone nearly as loyal as Joanne. I know that I can trust Joanne with my life. I‘m positive she would die before letting anything hurt me and I would do the same for her. The closest Val came to a loyal friend is one she knew since year 3 and they stopped talking a few weeks ago when she spread a rumour about Val.

“Oh, by the way, your hair looks great. You really have to tell me what dye you use.” Joanne said fingering a lock of my long, corkscrew hair that was coloured. ‘ _An infusion of the richest Rubies and the best Amethysts glowing in the midday sun_ ’ – as was the written description of the Century Witch in my creaky, old spell book.

This was my natural hair colour but of course I couldn’t tell anyone that so I said it was dyed that colour. Magic wasn’t a very recognised hair-care product.

“Thanks. Yours’ looks great too.” I complimented. I loved Joanne’s hair. It was impossibly long, golden hair, which tumbled down to her waist. What I love about Joanne is how whenever I see her, her heart-shaped face is home to permanently flushed cheeks and grey lively eyes that sparkle with excitement.

“Well, _I_ got _my_ hair curled professionally before the summer and it stayed that way.” A voice behind us boasted.

“No you didn’t. My dad bought you a curling wand after you wouldn’t stop nagging him and you get up at 5 in the morning to do your hair.” I countered, not bothering to turn around in my seat.

“You’re still jealous though.” Val said weakly, trying to protect her fragile ego.

“Val, no one asked you.” Joanne said turning around, her voice clear with sarcasm and as if she was tired of Val popping up in our conversation (which she probably was) and disrupting us.

“And no one asked you to interrupt me!” Val retorted angrily, probably to both of us. I had a brain wave then, for the next part of the potion: ‘ _anger or vengeance of the subject.’_

“ _Contraho_ _animi motus_.” I hissed, passing it off as a cough. Red mist collected in my palm and I closed my fist angrily knowing we had to leave. Now.

“Come on Joanne.” I said half to Joanne half to Val. “She’s not worth your breath” I was almost spitting venom at her but if looks could kill, I would have been incinerated. I could almost feel Val’s eyes boring into me when we left the room and headed for the girl’s dormitory. The ingredient was burning the skin on my palm and as soon as Joanne opened the door, I dashed into the bathroom. Luckily, I’d had the foresight to unpack all my stuff when I arrived so I didn’t need to dig around.

I pulled down the clear bottle with one of Val’s hairs in. I opened it one-handedly (nearly dropping it in the process) and tipped the red mist inside. It stared swirling around viciously and filled the space.

_Two down, one more to go_ , I thought to myself.


	3. Next Chapter

As you can imagine; me and Joanne are impeccably close and we do spend a lot of time together, talking joking or becoming even closer but sometimes we just walk along, enjoying each other company. This can however be very dangerous because even though I had been practicing the art of a Century Witch for 6 years, I still had slip-ups. Sometimes, _big_ slip-ups. 

I had so much raw power inside me that it had taken years for me to get as far as I am, but there was still quite a large quantity still untouched. I had to be very careful when I lost my temper, or of other times of strong emotion. Once in a fight with a girl at school I was in a blind fury and, completely by accident, I let my own hair on fire. Well, it didn’t really set it on _fire_ but it went redder and redder until it was swirling as a deep burgundy. The girl went very quiet for a moment, and then screamed. Realising what I had done, I carried on fighting, calling her every name under the sun. Thank goodness the attention was diverted as all eyes fell on the girl awaiting her answer. While she was taking in what had happened, I screamed in my head ‘ _flamma moritura_ ’ and continued fighting. That’s why I had to always have half my mind on one thing and half on my emotions. 

Anyway, Joanne and I just loved going to the local town on the weekends, to our favourite shop. 

The weekend of the first week back, we decided not to go to the village but the fields surrounding them. It was a particularly frosty autumn and the sun was fighting with the clouds to shine its warming rays on our grateful faces. To get to the fields where the cows hadn’t migrated to, you had to go by a corridor of trees, where the wind was scarce. We walked along happily, my mum’s two puppies trotting along happily in front of us. The teachers were allowed some pets because of their positions in the school, but since Mum was increasingly busy these days, Joanne and I volunteered to walk the dogs every so often. (It also helped that the dogs were seriously adorable.) 

The temperature had plummeted in that week – something to do with the ‘jet stream’ and the fact it was the _UK_ – and it was seriously cold. Wrapped up in scarves, a hat for Joanne and earmuffs for me, gloves and jackets for the dogs, we meandered through the snow-sparkled foliage. The only thing going through my head was at how fortunate I was to have been able to feel this moment of perfection. 

“The wind’s picking up. We should put the dogs on the leads.” Joanne called to me over the sudden roar of the untamed wind. 

I couldn’t figure out why the weather was suddenly fluctuating (even in England it isn’t _that_ unpredictable). I ran to the dog, clipped him on to his lead and held him close to my chest. The _thud, thud, thud_ of his heartbeat sent some relief and comfort. Once I knew he was safe, my thoughts focused on something else.

“Joanne!” I called out. I couldn’t see her anymore never mind hear her. “ _Joanne!_ ” The feeling of doom and panic set in to me like stone. As soon as I registered these unkind emotions, a blizzard picked up. My earmuffs were slipping back, my heart beat set of at a samba pace, and the thud of my young pup was slowing down steadily. Terror was my main emotion now. The blizzard reined on my crusted hair and defeated face. There was only one thing for it, I sank down on my knees and thought of everything that had gone wrong and everything I could have put right.

“ _Mitescere tempestas_!” I shouted to the heavens. My voice was hoarse and I had almost given up hope when the sky cleared. 

The sun shone through bright and unscathed, subtracting the worst of the snow from the landscape. There was still frost but apart from a stronger sunlight, nothing from the scene had changed from the beginning from this chapter. I soon spotted Joanne; she was no further than a classroom’s length away.

“Bizarre weather, eh?” She said to me when I walked over, still clutching the dog tightly. I could see the slight tremor in her hand and I knew that she was freaked out. 

“Well, it _was_ in the forecast.” I covered my tracks quite smoothly, putting on my most calming voice. Joanne’s shoulders relaxed slightly but not completely as we dusted ourselves down and restarted our way. 

“Did you hear someone? During the blizzard? I thought I heard someone shout something; could you hear it?” Joanne asked as we continued to shake off snow from our shoulders. A small pang of panic ricocheted throughout me but I skilfully managed to disguise it.

“I was calling out for you. I lost sight of you in the snow. It was probably that.” I replied truthfully, choosing to ignore the fact I hollered a spell. Joanne accepted my reply and we changed the topic of conversation. A small rustle of leaves caught my attention but my mind dismissed it as the wind. Even though I thought I was just paranoid, I couldn’t shake off the feeling someone was watching me. I glanced back over my shoulder and I thought I saw a head dart behind a tree but I had agree with myself, that it was only a figure of my imagination.

My head swung round to see the young puppy sitting patiently in front of me. 

Now that the panic of the freak blizzard had subsided, I noticed something hanging around his neck and crouched down to inspect it. It was a necklace. 

It didn’t feel like an ordinary necklace. It had a long gold chain with half an angel wing on it. The pendent was plated with gold and sprinkled with diamonds. I held the angel wing in my palm, testing the weight. Through my gloves, I could feel warmth and a small pulsing feeling. Like a heartbeat. It felt like the angel wing was alive in my hand.

I unclipped it and carefully took it off the dog. He happily bounded away to play with Icy, the platinum white Shih Tzu Joanne was tasked with walking. Del (An incredibly placid Welsh terrier) was more than happy to be relieved of his burden. I called Jo over to look at this necklace and she was just as amazed as I was. 

She asked the same question I was thinking: why did my dog have this necklace? 

Before I had much time to ponder this, Joanne saw Icy start to tackle Del and ran over to separate them. I swung the chain around my neck and went to join her. 

Just after we set off for home, I saw a head disappear behind a tree again. This time I knew it couldn’t have been my imagination. The trees loomed over us but offered protection as well.

“Hey, come over here!” Joanne shouted to me from behind the tree line where Icy had dragged Jo. I trudged over to her and she held out a neatly wrapped box and a card. 

“What are these?” I asked, surprised.

“Happy Birthday!” Joanne said, beaming from ear to ear.

“Thank you, Jo.” I thanked, opening the box to discover a pair of white gold earrings with two sapphires set in them. They didn’t look like real gems or real white gold but I was so touched by even getting a present. I always demanded the smallest birthday celebrations possible and the fewest amount of presents. I hugged Joanne, thanking her again for the amazing present. She prompted me to open the card; it had a picture of a dog falling asleep in a flower bed. Inside was written: 

 

_"A maiden born when autumn leaves; are rustling in September's breeze;_

_A Sapphire on her brow should bind; to bring her joy and peace of mind.”_

 

Along with Joanne writing: ‘ _the equinox is here but dear, nothing is equal in your life! Happy birthday and let there be many more birthdays to come!_ ’ 

I hugged Joanne again and slipped the earrings in my pocket for safe keeping. It was getting late so we rounded up the dogs and hurried back. 

I kept glancing around us, trying to see if I saw anything else. The trees stayed empty except for us and the dogs.

We trudged back, dropping both the dogs off with my mum (who looked extremely tired). She gave me a few tightly wrapped presents and a massive hug that nearly killed me. 

Neither of us talked while we walked back to our room. We didn’t need words. All we need was to be in each other’s company and we relaxed. That’s our friendship dynamic. We relied on each other quite heavily, but we also were completely honest with each other. That’s why when I felt unnerved, Joanne picked up on it. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, unlocking our door. 

“Nothing, I’m just tired.” I lied. It wasn’t a _total_ lie, I was exhausted from taking the dogs out, but sometimes, I felt it was better for Joanne if she didn’t know _everything_. Eventually she’d always worm it out of me, but I only kept stuff that she’d worried about too much. 

Joanne didn’t need that kind of stress. 

I fell asleep, still fully dressed, thinking it over. I knew that I might as well tell her sooner rather than later, somehow I couldn’t put the words in order to make it happen. 


	4. Next Chapter

I would be talking to Joanne under the old oak tree, or doing homework in the library when I’d get the paranoia about being watched. It was always late at night though, never really during the day. One night I had drawn the curtains to get changed but I wanted to see the moon so I opened them again, and I swear down on all that is good and holy, that I looked down at the door way and two heads had just disappeared into thin air. They were walking then *poof*. _Gone_. The whole feeling, that I was constantly under surveillance, unnerved me quite a bit. I asked Jo about it but it didn’t bother her.

“It’s probably low self-esteem. You are feeling that you are being watched because you are shy about your appearance. But even I have to say, that’s not you. Maybe it’s the Val effect.” Jo suggested breezily. Something about the dismissal irked me.

“The ‘ _Val effect?_ ’”

“You know, when Val is going on about how people stalk her, or that her secret admirer is following her (all complete lies, of course), she only feels that way because she wants it to be true. She wants to have stalkers and followers, in real life, not just on twitter.” Jo explained all professional. Despite the unlikeness of her theory, I couldn’t help but laugh only to be cut off by catching a figure out of the corner of my eye.

“You’re so paranoid.” Jo was laughing at my serious expression so I faked a chortle.

 

Winter came and went in a flurry of small snow storms and sub-zero temperatures. Presents were exchanged and I managed to give my dad an aneurysm by deliberately refusing to go on the plane back and going by train all the way. (He was so angry with me that he ended up just sending me up to my room and ranting on about how I was too ‘ _rebellious_ ’.) He got the message though and he let me go back down by train, _if_ I promised to go by plane at the end of the year. Reluctantly, I agreed to the terms.

Spring was now settling over the country and everyone started to shed their thick winter coats and hats. Nothing happened much over that time. We’d gone back to school in the first week of January but apparently the teachers didn’t get the fact that we were still all groggy from the cold. The homework piled up and everyone was starting to strain slightly. Joanne was handling it relatively well but I wasn’t.

“Three pieces of homework due for tomorrow and I’ve got kickboxing straight after school. These teachers are gonna _kill_ me. Mark my words.” I complained, storming out of the classroom. Jo quickly caught up with me, still hoisting her bag over her shoulder.

“They’re just trying to get us back into the swing of things. It’ll die down after a week or so. I’ll help if you want.” She offered, trying to calm me down.

“It’s okay. I just hate the teachers because they think they can dictate us. It’s infuriating.” I exclaimed. My anger wasn’t budging and there was only one way I could actually release it. We passed through the doors outside and I turned to the wall. Before I could actually think it over, I threw my fist at the bricks. The wall caved in slightly under the force of my fist and I breathed out deeply. Chips of the brick slid to the ground and landed on my shoe.

“Oh my God!” Joanne exclaimed, staring at me in shock.

“Okay, I’m better now,” I said, letting my hand drop. Joanne stared at me wide-eyed for a moment. “What?” I asked, becoming slightly unnerved. She didn’t notice me slip my other hand into my pocket with a small vile wrapped in tissues. _Magical blood_ was the third ingredient. Now it just needed to ferment.

“You just punched a wall to get rid of frustration and you’re just standing there like nothing happened.” She stated. I glanced down at my fist. The skin was broken all along my knuckles and trails of blood were dripping down my fingers.

“Oh. Maybe I should go to the nurse.” I suggested.

“Yeah, I think so.” Joanne replied, exasperatedly. “You will never stop surprising me when it comes to your stupidity.” She chided.

“It’s just a scratch.” I said nonchalantly.

“You’re such an idiot.” Joanne held the door open for me and I stepped through. We walked down the now empty corridors and Joanne knocked nervously on the nurse’s door. A man opened the door and looked at us. His eyes flickered to the injuries on my fist and sighed.

“Again?” He asked, letting us in.

“Sorry but I was frustrated.” I apologised, sitting down on the deflated little bed tucked against the wall. The man frowned at me and opened the cupboards. Joanne stood by the door, mirroring the nurse’s expression.

“That’s what the kickboxing is for. You need a less _injuring_ release.” The nurse berated.

“Hitting the wall is better than hitting someone else.” I hissed. He sat down opposite me and unravelled a length of bandage. First he wiped the blood off with a sterilized cloth and promptly threw that in the bin.

“You shouldn’t need to hit anything.” He said, as if that was the final words. I stayed quiet and let him bandage up my hand. It stung slightly but I didn’t wince. He secured it down with a bit of medical tape (like the type you would put over newly pierced ears) and I retracted my arm.

“Thank you.” Joanne said, picking up my school bag for me and opening the door.

“I can take my bag, Jo. I’m not totally helpless, you know.” I stated, taking my school bag off her.

“Just being nice.” She replied.

 

My hand prevented me from kickboxing for a week. That sucked. No stress release from fighting so I had to settle with reading away my time. After a week, my hand was healed but I had a small scar running the width of my hand.

‘ _Ah, well._ ’ I thought to myself when the nurse took the bandage off and I saw the pale ridge for the first time.

My homework was still a torment but at least I wasn’t the only one struggling under the pressure now. Joanne had started to get chronic headaches and regularly had to take medication for it. I remember on the first summer(ish) day of the year when Joanne had to visit the nurse for her headache and I was sitting under the old oak tree with a book open on my lap. There wasn’t a breeze to cool my wilted skin. The diamonds encrusted on the angel wing necklace twinkled in the sunlight. My sunset-infusion string-strap top and swirling muted orange knee high skirt cooled me best they could (it probably didn’t help that I was wearing shorts under the skirt), but I was still parched.

Whispering ‘ _refoveo_ _mihi_ _’_ was the only way to stop me from overheating. A paper fan appeared in thin air and started to beat rhythmically, making my fringe flicker over my eyes.

I’d been reading the same line for over a minute now, so I closed the book and lay it out on the bench. My hair was tied up in a messy, curly bun held in with chopsticks but I felt like letting it bounce on my shoulders. I pulled the chopsticks out of my hair slowly. Slowly, so I could feel the strands come in to contact with my bare shoulders and eventually cloak me, cutting off at the bottom of my back. Everyone else had gone to the cinema, or was by the pool or in one of the recreations rooms, so I was alone, with only my thoughts and nature for comfort.

Smiling in the spring sun and basking in the calming silence, was the perfect experience. I reached down and picked a daisy that had blossomed on the grass beside the bench. I held the minute flower above me and studied it carefully. At the root of the tightly clasped petals was a thin strip of pink. Like me, this poor flower was feeling the harsh affects of the sun.

I waved a hand over the head of the flower and it perked up considerably. The flower was placed behind my right ear and I lay back down on the bench, staring up into the many layers of leaves canopying high over me. I watched the sun ripple through the skin of each leaf, casting all sorts of shades of green into the surrounding air. The leaves rustled but there still was no wind. I peered up to where the noise originated and again I thought I saw a face dart behind more leaves. Honestly and truly freaked out I hastily grabbed my book and set off for home again.

 

Later that evening, I was last to leave the library again, doing my homework as per-usual. (The librarian was my mum so she kept the library open late for me). I had books open at different pages in an ark shape around me, a pot of pens and pencils spilled on the table, which occasionally rolled onto the floor, and a A5 note pad packed with scribbles that hardly registered as waves, never mind words (and yet somehow it all made sense to my bizarre brain). I paused for a moment to adjust my jacket, for about the hundredth time that night. I had also put on a pair of leggings under my skirt as a cold wind had developed after I left the tree. My mum came and sat down behind me.

“Why are you wearing a skirt?” She asked, plucking the hem of my skirt. She had a look of distaste on her face and I smiled.

“Dad’s fed up with my wardrobe so he took it upon himself to send some clothes he thought were more age-appropriate. And by that he meant _girly_.” I explained bitterly. Mum put a comforting arm around me.

“I like your clothes.” She said simply.

“I know but he wants me to look more like Elizabeth, basically.” I explained.

“But I don’t want two daughters that are completely identical.” She said childishly, which made me laugh. “I want children that have different personalities and dress the way they want. You don’t have to wear the skirts if you don’t want to, I won’t tell.” Mum promised. They way Mum spoke reminded me of when I would tell Liz secrets when we were much younger and we both promised never to tell anyone else. Mum was so different to other Mums; she was cooler than them for starters. I resumed writing when she looked over at the books I had out.

“Thanks ma.” I said gratefully, leaning into her embrace.

“Hey, don’t stress yourself too much.” She warned jokily, casting an eye over the many volumes of information scattered across my table. “Are you gonna stay late again?”

“I still have a history page to do, and then I need to redo my English project because apparently ‘ _it wasn’t up to standard_ ’.” I ranted angrily. I worked for hours on end, on each of my subjects and nearly all my teachers say it’s inadequate. Mrs. Lo doesn’t though - that’s the main reason why she’s my favourite teacher.

“That must be annoying. Still, it’s not healthy for you to be up this late every night.” She said leaning against the back of my chair, peering over to look at my notes “Wait a moment; you’re onto Shakespeare already?”

“Yeah, it’s actually this week’s homework but I still have a lot to do on this one passage we’re looking at. I got this book out and it’s really interesting.” I said, sighing deeply as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders. “ _Every single_ _week_ I get my homework back, from at least two teachers and I spend more time on my homework than anyone in my class!” I showed her the cover of the encyclopaedia I was using and she hugged me from the side.

“How you don’t fall asleep in lessons, I’ll never know. Don’t strain yourself. I’ll leave the keys on the desk for you to lock up.” She said leaving the room but not without squeezing my shoulders in a comforting way and planting a kiss on the top of my head. I knew there was no one left by the time my mum leaves. I leave round about midnight and it was closing in on five to. Sleep was threatening to invade my mind, so I shuffled the leather lace-up bag out of my sleeve and took a swig of this gooey mixture in a clouded glass bottle.

Almost immediately sleep retreated, and I heard the door close. I shook my hair and then bent over my notes again. I wasn’t aware I was being watched until the person actually blocked my light but I couldn’t see them when I looked up.

Slightly spooked, I decided to search the library. All the aisles were empty, there was no one just outside so I returned to my table. The funny thing was that my note book was missing a page. I wasn’t worried because it was just notes for English but again the feeling kept rising. I had memorised the notes so I re-wrote them quickly, snapping the notebook shut when I was done. My homework was left unfinished for the next night all alone in the library.

 

**Author's Note:**

> fyi, the story is also on Wattpad under the name 'Sirens' by Angel_With_A_Story


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